


to build a home.

by sketchy_and_unformed



Category: Naruto
Genre: 60 minutes to gift, Bad Dreams, Dai-nana-han | Team 7 as Family (Naruto), Discord: Tenzō's Cabin, Established Relationship, Fluff, Found Family, M/M, References to past trauma, Tasteful Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:27:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27898297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sketchy_and_unformed/pseuds/sketchy_and_unformed
Summary: Yamato is grateful every single day for his blessings. He’s grateful that they’ve all survived this long, that they’re all relatively whole and intact and that they can support each other where they’re not.
Relationships: Umino Iruka/Yamato | Tenzou
Comments: 12
Kudos: 30
Collections: Found Family 60-minutes





	to build a home.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [panda_shi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/panda_shi/gifts).



> Gift fic for [panda_shi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/panda_shi/pseuds/panda_shi), part of the Tenzō's Cabin Discord 60-minutes to gift event. Theme: found family. Key words: fear, home.
> 
> First time writing this pairing, first time participating in any kind of challenge or fic exchange, meep. I really hope you like it! Enjoy the sappiest thing that anyone has possibly ever written.

It’s the same dream as always. He’s stuck underground, rooted in place and he can’t move or speak or break free but he can feel everything. The death and pain being caused up above him, fuelled by his chakra, his mokuton, his curse. He feels every snapping bone, every splash of blood, every death, feels it as though he’s doing the killing with his own hands because he might as well be. His mind is overtaken by pain and horror, drowning everything else out.

Yamato has had this nightmare so many times since the end of the war that he doesn’t jerk awake anymore, or gasp or make any sound other than a resigned sigh. But once awake he can’t settle, and as he moves in the bed his lover stirs.

“Yamato?”

“I’m sorry,” he says but Iruka slides closer and touches his face in a way that means ‘don’t apologise’. The touch has become soothingly familiar, although he still marvels at how very much Iruka can convey through his fingertips alone. They now trace down his jaw, featherlight over his neck and down his arm.

There was a time not so very long ago when Yamato couldn’t bear to be touched by anyone, would flinch away if he could, but now he can’t imagine his life without those hands against his skin.

Iruka stretches up for a kiss that Yamato gives willingly. For an instant he swears that he can taste blood, or maybe ashes, and he shudders before he can stop it. Iruka pulls away, the faint moonlight through the curtains just picking out the concern in his dark eyes.

“It was bad this time.”

Yamato nods.

It’s the fear that really gets to him. The terror that if it was done to him once, it could be done again.

Iruka’s lips curve into a soft smile. “Want me to help you forget?”

“You should sleep,” Yamato says softly.

Iruka kisses the corner of his mouth and strokes down his chest. “I can’t sleep if you’re awake.”

He shifts to move on top of Yamato who takes his weight gratefully. Before he can think Iruka is kissing the side of his neck, lips warm and soft there, making him shiver in a different way than the nightmare of before. He curls his arms around to hold him close but Iruka shimmies out of his grasp to work his way down his body. Soon he disappears beneath the sheets and then Yamato gasps at the feel of those warm lips on his stomach, his thighs.

And Iruka, as always, was right: it helps him to forget.

Yamato lets his thoughts leave him as he loses himself in the heat of Iruka’s mouth around him, teasing at first and then, when he’s fully aroused, giving him pleasure steadily. It’s relaxed and sensual, Yamato barely moving beyond the lazy arch of his back as he accepts what his lover is willing to give, not chasing his release but only enjoying their closeness. Iruka’s firm hands on his thighs hold him down and ground him and the memory of the nightmare soon leaves him, falling away like the tension bleeding out of his muscles as he sinks into the mattress. He runs his fingers through the dark silk of Iruka’s hair, closes his eyes and whispers his lover’s name 

When he comes it’s with the softest groan and Iruka lets him go with heartbreaking tenderness and a final kiss then comes back up to settle in his waiting arms.

“Thank you,” Yamato says and reaches down but Iruka gently bats his searching hand away.

“Sleep now.”

Yamato makes a noise of protest that Iruka silences with his mouth, a little bitter with his taste but still soft and smiling against his.

“Tomorrow,” he whispers and Yamato kisses him again.

“Promise.”

*

He wakes in the morning with his head resting on Iruka’s stomach. He’d been dreaming of the ocean, calm and endless, the rise and fall of Iruka’s breaths forming the rolling waves.

A little drool is leaking from his mouth and he rises to wipe it quickly away. Iruka is already awake but apparently in no hurry to move. His long fingers thread through Yamato’s hair and tug him gently back down to his previous resting place.

“Good morning.”

“I love you,” Yamato blurts out and Iruka laughs softly.

It’s times like this that he just can’t help but say it, hardly believing that he’s found such happiness and peace with the man sharing his bed. Waking up with him is the simplest pleasure. After the war he didn’t think he could ever find anything close to this, but they found each other.

They met at a gathering organised by Naruto to celebrate the end of the war and the village’s return to something resembling normalcy. The boy had wanted to throw a full on festival but Yamato and Kakashi had talked him out of it. The wounds and the losses had still been very raw then and it would have felt inappropriate. Instead, many of them had gathered at one of the training grounds close to the forest where Naruto, Sakura, Hinata and Sai had laid out a spread of food and drinks and decorated the space with simple bunting to create something similar to a garden party where all of Naruto’s most precious people could meet and talk and quietly celebrate being alive.

Kakashi, of all people, had introduced Yamato to Iruka. He’d pulled the perplexed teacher over by his sleeve, pushed him towards Yamato and simply stated their names once before hurrying away. Yamato hadn’t known what to think.

“Ah, nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Iruka said, clearly more than a little bemused himself. “You’re the one who helped to rebuild the village, aren’t you? I have to say, I much prefer your version of the academy building.”

“Really?”

“Oh yes,” Iruka said. His voice was soft but confident and Yamato found himself listening intently to every word that he spoke. “The bowstring roof was a wonderful idea and you made it so decorative without being flashy.”

Yamato flushed slightly, smiling. “You noticed that?”

“Well, I have to work there every day,” Iruka said. “Sometimes I need a distraction. Wrangling children isn’t always easy.”

“Naruto is always singing your praises, you know. I don’t think he’d have grown into half the man he is without your guidance.”

Iruka’s smile was wide and sincere. “Thank you. Would you like to get tea sometime?”

They had fallen into dating after that and it had been so easy. Too easy, Yamato still thinks in his darkest times. Iruka has been endlessly patient with him, understanding when the memories are too bad to push through and he has to spend whole days indoors. He must have trauma of his own, not only from the war but before; as shinobi, they all do. But Yamato has never heard him speak of it or seen the shadow of grief in his brown eyes. Iruka listens when he needs to talk and holds him when he can’t. He’s been the rock that Yamato hadn’t even realised he needed so desperately. Falling in love with him was inevitable. How thrilling, though, to find that the feeling was returned. Eventually they built their cabin together, Yamato making the frame with his mokuton and Iruka filling it with furniture and decorations that turned it from a house into a home. They’ve been living there together for a little over a year now and Yamato couldn’t wish for more.

With his head still on Iruka’s stomach, Yamato realises that he is tantalisingly close to his crotch, still hidden beneath a sheet. He remembers his promise of the night before and grins as he sweeps the sheet away to reveal all of Iruka’s naked body. He’s half-hard and Yamato turns his head to kiss the hollow of his hip.

“Can I?” he murmurs against the skin and Iruka scratches his scalp gently.

“You can,” he said, voice full of the barely contained laughter that’s so much a part of him, that has made their relationship so rewarding. Iruka finds joy in the everyday and it’s done more to heal Yamato’s damage than he imagines that any amount of therapy could have.

Yamato’s mouth is thoroughly full when there’s a loud knock on the door, almost immediately followed by Naruto’s hollering voice.

“Iruka-sensei! Captain Yamato!”

Iruka groans and bats weakly at Yamato’s head bobbing in his lap. “Come on. We’ll finish this later.”

Yamato rises and shoots him a wicked smirk. “No, we’ll finish this now.” He grows a wood clone from his hand and Iruka’s eyes darken. “Do you want me to stay, or him?”

“The clone,” Iruka says, licking his lips. “That way you’ll get the memories later.”

Yamato tugs his clothes on quickly, sparing a longing glance over his shoulder to where Iruka is already lazily kissing his clone. But there will be other mornings in bed, he knows, afternoons and evenings too, and Naruto is important to both of them. He’s family.

Naruto isn’t alone; Sakura and Sai trail into the house after him. All three wear matching smiles and Yamato gives each of them a brief hug.

“What’s the occasion?”

“Breakfast!” Naruto says. “It’s Sunday, y’know!”

“Ah, of course it is.”

Team breakfasts have become a weekly tradition between the four of them. He’d forgotten it was his turn to host. Rather than an irritation, though, the interruption by the three teens is very welcome. They make up another piece of the happiness that he’s found.

“I want fried chicken!” Naruto says and Sakura gives him an exasperated look.

“Fried chicken is not a breakfast food.”

“Well, I don’t see why it isn’t. Eggs are breakfast, and eggs come from chickens.”

“I suppose anything can be a breakfast food if one chooses to eat it at breakfast time,” Sai says philosophically and Sakura jabs him with her elbow.

“Don’t you encourage him.”

“I’ll make pancakes,” Yamato says, heading off any further argument.

Iruka comes downstairs much later than he had expected, still in the process of securing his long hair in a high ponytail as he enters the kitchen. He’s wearing a sweater that he co-opted from Yamato several months ago; it’s too big on him but the stretch of his arms still causes the hem to ride up, exposing a tan strip of his stomach that makes Yamato’s fingers twitch, wanting to touch.

Naruto is already halfway through his second helping but doesn’t let his full mouth stop him from shouting a cheery greeting to his former sensei.

“Good morning,” Iruka returns warmly, taking a seat at the table. “Sorry I’m late. How is everyone?”

Yamato releases his clone to sink back into the wood of the bedroom floor. As the chakra returns to him he has to bite the inside of his cheek to suppress a gasp as he’s assaulted by images of Iruka’s naked body riding his lap, the sounds of whispered words in his ear and the feel of his heat around him. He immediately pops an erection and is beyond grateful for the table they’re all sitting at. He feels eyes on him and glances over to see the smirk on Iruka’s face. Thankfully if any of the teens notice his sudden blush, they don’t mention it.

The five of them chatter easily over their food and Yamato finds himself studying each of them in turn. Naruto, who had started his life so alone but who has now channelled his wild energy into becoming a fearless leader that the whole village can unite behind. Sakura, who no longer hides behind her teammates but is a strong shinobi in her own right with a healing, empathic heart. Sai, whose story was so tragically similar to Yamato’s own beginnings in Root but now smiles as naturally as if he’s been doing it his whole life.

And Iruka, who is his lover, his friend, his home.

After the teens leave Yamato pinches Iruka hard although it has little impact through the thick wool of the sweater.

“You’re the worst.”

“You didn’t enjoy it?” Iruka asks innocently. He looks so adorable in the oversized sweater that even if Yamato had truly been angry at him, which he isn’t, he would have struggled to maintain it. He smiles and curls a hand around Iruka’s neck to bring their foreheads together.

“I did. I do. I love you.”

“I know,” Iruka says and kisses him sweetly.

Yamato is grateful every single day for his blessings. He’s grateful that they’ve all survived this long, that they’re all relatively whole and intact and that they can support each other where they’re not.

Iruka slides his arms around Yamato’s back and holds him close, swaying slightly to an imagined rhythm in their living room, the centre of their home.

“We have the whole day,” he says against Yamato’s chest. “What do you want to do?”

Yamato presses his face to Iruka’s hair and breathes him in.

“Nothing. Nothing at all.”

Iruka hums happily. “I can live with that.”


End file.
